Eva
by rslhilson
Summary: After a deadly diagnosis, Sam reveals to Wilson that he's a father, and House finds himself stuck in the middle. Explicit H/W slash
1. Dinner Date

_Eva_

_Chapter 1: Dinner Date_

Bonnie hadn't been kidding when she'd said that Wilson was good in bed. The man was like a closeted sex monster just waiting to unleash his powers in sheer and utter ecstasy.

"Jesus, Wilson…" House gasped in pleasure, his body tingling in delight. "Who knew you…had it in you…"

"Shut up," Wilson panted, but it was obvious he was smiling. "Every time we do this, you act like…it's the first…ohhh, God…" An uncontrollable moan escaped his lips, interrupting his speech as ripples of pleasure radiated through his body.

"You're just _that _good," House breathed. He heaved his body even closer to Wilson, loving how even with their legs twisted together, sweat and breaths converging, he barely felt any pain. "You know, those love nymphs…really…knew their stuff…"

"Shit," Wilson muttered. The phone was ringing.

"Ignore it," House growled, but Wilson was far too concerned that it was a patient to just let it ring. He gently pulled away, untangled himself from the sheets, and scooted over to grab the cordless phone from the nightstand.

"This is Dr. Wilson." A pause. "Oh…Oh my God. Hi." He struggled to sit up as House, annoyed and frustrated, rolled over onto his stomach and faceplanted into the pillow. "No, this is a good time. How are you? Is everything alright?"

"Everything sucks," House mouthed, temporarily lifting his head so that Wilson could see his irritated expression. Wilson held up his index finger to signal that the call would be over soon.

"I…sure, I guess I could. When and where? Okay, sounds good. I'll see you then."

Wilson hung up the phone, and House turned his head to look at him. "Who was that?"

Wilson laid back down, rolling onto his side to face his lover. "You'll never believe this, but Sam just called."

"Sam who?"

"Carr. Samantha Carr."

House's mouth dropped open in horror. "Did you just agree to have a reunion with Crazy Bitch #1?"

"She said she needs to tell me something that was too important to say over the phone."

"Oh, please, she just wants to get in your pants. Did you tell her that you're _gay_ now and are thus no longer interested?"

"House, I haven't seen Sam in over a decade. If she says it's important, then it must be."

"Right. 'Cause who lies nowadays, anyway?" House sighed and shifted closer to Wilson. "Now, where were we…"

"Actually, she wants to meet me tonight."

"Oh, for God's sake," House groaned. "We're finally together, and women are _still _trying to take you away from me."

Wilson rolled his eyes and heaved himself up from the bed. "We're grabbing dinner at Mario's. Will you be okay with the leftover lasagna in the fridge?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Wilson sighed. "House, it's just dinner. I'll hear what she has to say that's so important, and then I'll probably never have to see her again. Okay?"

When House only narrowed his eyes in response, Wilson shrugged. "Anyway, mentioning the love nymphs wasn't exactly a turn-on."

"It was a joke!" House yelled in exasperation, but Wilson had already left to take a shower. Conceding defeat, he faceplanted into the pillow again and groaned.

* * *

The restaurant was dimly lit, and the murmuring of flirtatious voices among the whitewashed tablecloths and floral surroundings made Wilson shift uncomfortably in his seat. Why had he agreed to meet her at Mario's again?

"James!"

He looked up and stood to greet her, almost unprepared for her wide-armed embrace and European cheek-kisses. "Hey, Sam."

"Oh, James! It's so great to see you!"

"Here, let me help you with that." He pulled out her chair and helped her get settled before taking his place across from her.

"Always the gentleman," she observed, smiling. "You haven't changed a bit, James. You look fantastic, by the way."

"So do you. You had quite the figure already, but you look like you've lost some more weight."

"It's been over ten years!" she replied with a smile. "A lot can happen in a decade." A waiter approached the table, and they ordered a couple of glasses of wine before opening the menus.

"So," Sam said, perusing the list of dishes. "What have you been up to? Still working in oncology?"

"Yeah, still working in oncology. And you?"

"I've actually been taking some time off. I just needed a break, you know? But anyway, it's been nice without all of the extra stress."

The wine came, and they both ordered salads. Unsure what else to say or do, Wilson sat stiffly in his chair, letting an awkward smile drape across his face.

"What about women?" Sam asked, seemingly totally comfortable as she took a sip of wine. "Did you ever settle down again?"

Wilson blushed. It wasn't the first time he'd had to explain his new relationship, but usually others weren't all that surprised that his intimate friendship with House had matured into something greater. Sam, on the other hand, didn't even know who House was.

"I was married a couple more times," he began. "But actually, right now I'm in a relationship with an old friend of mine, Greg. Thought I'd try batting for the other side." He laughed nervously, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Oh!" Sam was obviously shocked, but she didn't let her surprised expression linger for too long. "Well, that's great! As long as you're happy."

"I am," he said, relieved. "What about you, did you ever remarry?"

She shook her head, moving her wine glass as the waiter delivered their salads. "Nah. There've been some flings here and there, but…there never was anyone quite like you, James."

Wilson poked at his salad with his fork, not wanting to fall for her usual tricks. "Sam, what is it that you wanted to tell me?"

She took her time in chewing and swallowing, cleansing her mouth with another sip of wine. "I guess it's come to that, then."

"You said it was too important to tell me over the phone."

"It is. And thank you again for meeting me here, James – I was so lucky to be able to find you in the phonebook. I know this was all very sudden, and I really appreciate you being so accommodating."

He waited, watching as Sam considered her words.

"Do you remember our divorce? How…quickly that all went?"

"You mean, how I found out from your _lawyer_ that you wanted to leave me?"

"…Yeah. That wasn't exactly how I wanted it to go, but I just didn't know how to face you."

Wilson tightened his grip around his fork. He'd been interrupted in the middle of mind-blowing sex for _this_? House was right – he shouldn't have come.

"Look, Sam, that was a really long time ago – "

"I'm not finished. James, the reason why everything was so sudden was because I…"

He popped a tomato into his mouth. _Any day, now._

"…I was pregnant."

He dropped the fork. Swallowed. Choked on the tomato juice and gulped down the rest of his wine.

"Sam, that's not funny," he wheezed.

"I'm not trying to be funny. The reason why I wanted to meet you tonight was because I needed to tell you that you – we – have a daughter."

The room was spinning. Why was it spinning? He needed to get out, get some fresh air, call House and maybe pass out. It was too hard to breathe. Disoriented, Wilson threw his napkin to the floor and rushed out of the restaurant.

"James. James!"

She caught up to him outside and grabbed his arm. "James, please!"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he exploded. "You knew you were pregnant, and instead of telling me, you filed for divorce? Jesus, Sam!"

"I needed to get _out_," she tried to explain. "Our marriage was a wreck and we were both miserable, and I knew you'd never let me go if you found out I was pregnant."

"Oh, well, I can't imagine why!" he shot back. "I can't believe this!"

"I'm sorry." Her pleading eyes sought his. "I'm so, so sorry. I've never regretted anything more in my life, I swear."

Still furious, Wilson shook her hand off his arm and began to walk away.

"Her name is Eva," she called after him, desperate. He couldn't help but stop, and she knew it. "You know, like Evan?"

He slowly turned around. "You obviously wanted to get rid of me. Why bother giving her a version of my middle name?"

"She had your eyes. Every time I looked at her, I saw you."

"Why now?" He had to keep talking, or the tears brimming in his eyes might start to leak out. "You've had over ten _years _to tell me. Why did you change your mind?"

"Because I'm dying," she whispered. This time, the tears came from her.

* * *

When Wilson returned to the apartment, House was sprawled out on the couch, casually strumming his guitar as the television screen glowed with a muted episode of _The L Word._

"That was fast," House called out, not looking up from the TV as he continued to play random chords. "What'd Crazy Bitch want?"

Wilson didn't answer, opting to grab a beer from the fridge instead.

"Did she jump you? Because seriously, if I were her, I'd be all over your gorgeous ass."

Wilson downed the beer, tossed the bottle, and made his way into the bedroom. House, realizing that maybe this wasn't the best time for his usual sarcasm, rested the guitar against the coffee table and used the remote to switch off the TV. He waited, hoping that Wilson would come out on his own, but after a few minutes of silence he hoisted himself up and limped to the bedroom. Gently pushing the door open, he saw Wilson lying in bed, his back to House.

Still quiet, House tentatively sat on the opposite side. When Wilson didn't protest, he reached out and tenderly stroked his hair.

"Hey, Wilson."

"Hmgh," Wilson mumbled. House could never help but smile at the muttering that escaped Wilson's mouth whenever he was upset.

"You can talk to me. Dr. House can make it all better."

"Not this, you can't."

"Try me."

Wilson sighed. "She lied to me. For over ten fucking years, she lied to me."

"I _knew_ the boobs in that photo you showed me were fake."

Wilson's eyes slid up to House in annoyance.

"Okay, okay." House moved to massaging Wilson's back. "Keep going."

Wilson took a deep breath, forfeiting the massage in favor of rolling over to face his lover. "Apparently, I…have a daughter."

House froze. "What?"

"Her name is Eva. She's named after me."

"Holy shit, Wilson."

"_And…_Sam's dying. Stage IV breast cancer. They caught it really late and the usual treatment just didn't work. It's metastasized to her liver."

House collapsed onto the pillows. "Holy fuck."

"…Is that worse than 'holy shit'?"

House eyed him warily. "If that's the only question you can come up with right now – "

"I'm panicking, okay? I don't know how I'm supposed to react to all of this, and I just…I don't know!" Not wanting to cry in front of House, Wilson turned over to face the wall again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." House moved in closer to wrap his arms around Wilson. "This is all kinds of screwy, but we'll deal."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Right now, we wait."

"For what?"

"For me to figure it out."

"House, this isn't another one of your puzzles – "

"Your entire history of emotional wreckage is a puzzle." House leaned in and nuzzled Wilson with his nose. "I know I'm a cripple, but I can carry some of the world on my shoulders, too."

Wilson, exhausted, finally let his tense body slump into House's embrace.

"Okay," he whispered, and closed his eyes as he let House hold him.


	2. Wilson

_Eva_

_Chapter 2: Wilson_

"I've got it." As usual, House limped unannounced into Wilson's office, and as usual, Wilson didn't bother to look up from his paperwork.

"Fantastic," Wilson mumbled, finishing off another signed page. "What've you got?"

"A plan."

"For…world domination?"

"That one's already done. _This _plan is for you and the crapfest you seem to have gotten yourself into."

Wilson set his pen down and looked up as House took a seat in front of his desk. "Go on."

"The plan is…are you ready? _Nothing! _Ta-da!"

Wilson winced, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a classic House-induced headache coming on. "You're certainly living up to your brilliant reputation."

"C'mon, it's genius. You just do _nothing_. What could be better?"

"Seriously, House, if you're not going to help, then I don't need you here right now."

"Seriously, Wilson," House repeated in a mocking whine. "Look, Crazy Bitch never told you about the kid, so your responsibility ends there. Case closed. Damn, I wish I could say the same about _my _case. Fifty-year-old male, headache and abdominal pain - "

"I have a daughter whom I've never met and an ex-wife with terminal cancer, and I'm just supposed to sit here and do nothing?" Wilson interrupted.

"Took you long enough to catch on."

"Sam's dying, House. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week or even next month, but soon. And when she's gone, somebody is going to have to take care of Eva."

"First of all, don't call her by her name."

Wilson winced again. "And how would you like me to refer to her, pray tell?"

"I don't know. Baby Wilson? Wilsonella? Crazy Bitch spawn? Point is, you're the King of Caring, so once you start calling her by her name, it's all over for you."

"Of course. I should've realized."

"Second of all, what did I tell you? She's not your responsibility!"

"So when Sam dies, I'm supposed to let Eva live on the street?"

"If you want. Or, you know, they came up with this thing called adoption. You can ask Cuddy about it; she's kind of an expert by now."

"House, most people adopt babies, not preteens."

"Again, not your responsibility. Doesn't Crazy Bitch have anyone else she can dump the kid on?"

"There's no one. And stop calling her Crazy Bitch." Wilson sighed. "I really can't do this right now, House. Sam called this morning, and we had a long talk about things. She wants to bring Eva over to the condo so we can meet, and all that."

"You did say no, right?"

"Actually, they're coming over for dinner, so I need you to not be a dick for one night."

House slumped in disappointment. "Aw, c'mon, mom!"

"House, if you care at _all_ about me, you won't screw this up."

House stared into his eyes for a moment before finally giving a small nod. "Okay."

"Promise?"

"I'll even cook."

Wilson raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I was going to order Chinese."

"Don't be ridiculous. You want it to be special, don't you?"

"Well…thanks. That's actually very…_thoughtful_ of you," Wilson said with a knowing smile.

"Oh, don't go all soft," House muttered, and stood to leave. "What time will they be there?"

"7:30."

"I'll be home early to prepare." He opened the door with a shake of his head. "Poor ducklings. Guess they'll be here all night without me." He began to shout as he closed the door behind him. "Hey, Taub, where the hell are my MRI results…"

* * *

Wilson sat stiffly on the couch, fidgeting nervously as House stumbled around the kitchen, pots clanging and food sizzling.

"Are you sure you don't need any help in there?" he called out.

"What'd I tell you?" House called back over the hiss of escaping steam. "I cook. You sit and worry like a good little Wilson."

He could've shot back with another retort, but House was right. He was much too anxious to be of any help at the moment.

"Hey." House hobbled over to the couch and leaned down to give Wilson a quick kiss on the cheek. "Dr. House has got it all covered. And he _never_ lies."

"Right." Wilson couldn't help but smile, and he stretched his head up to give House a proper kiss. "Thanks, House."

"Dinner'll be ready in ten," House said, ruffling Wilson's hair before returning to the kitchen.

Wilson watched him go, remembering how Sam used to do the same things – run her fingers through his hair, reassure him with a joke and a kiss. Somewhere between their separate, lofty career ambitions and increasing time apart, he'd found himself signing away his marriage to the first woman he'd ever truly loved. Towards the end they'd still made love occasionally, working through the motions because that's what society dictated they should do…and apparently, one of those mechanical nights had actually led to the creation of a product. A child.

Eva, like Evan. He wondered what she looked like. Blond, like Sam, or mousy-haired, like him? Was she pretty? Did she really have his eyes? He caught himself and pushed the questions out of his head – fathers weren't supposed to care about their daughter's looks. Not that he could really be considered a father at this point, but it wasn't as if he was a deadbeat dad – he'd simply been unaware. Totally not his fault. But he'd have to be a dad soon, because Sam was going to die, and…

Shit. Sam was dying. He'd been trying to focus on the fact that there was a little girl out there walking around with half of his DNA, but he couldn't ignore the other part of the equation. Wasn't it ironic, a top oncologist's ex-wife dying of terminal cancer? He knew he shouldn't care so much. Sam hadn't been in his life for over a decade, and she may as well have been a stranger. How many times had he sat in his office across from patients whom he'd barely met, pointing out spots on their x-rays and trying to explain that even a truckload of chemo wouldn't help them? He was experienced in the art of dealing with death – it was basically the definition of working in oncology. And yet, knowing all too well what Sam would go through once she began to decline, his heart ached for her.

Because she wasn't _really _a stranger. So what if they hadn't seen each other in 10+ years? They'd been married! They'd shared a life and a bed together, exchanged kisses and secrets. He still knew that her favorite color was pink, that her favorite dog Daisy had died when she was 12, that she'd lost her virginity on a drunken night with her college roommate's ex-boyfriend, and that her childhood dream had been to be a Broadway actress. She was hardly a stranger. She'd put him through hell during the divorce, but he'd loved her once. Suddenly Wilson felt an overwhelming urge to wrap Sam in his arms and hold her – care for her. And this worried him, because these were thoughts that he was supposed to have about House, and no one else. Of course, he did want to hold and care for House, too – among other things. He loved House, and as their relationship had developed, he'd realized that he'd probably loved House for a very long time. And while he'd used to love Sam, he didn't love her anymore.

House would hate him for this, but the caring complex that made him a good oncologist was also what would make him stick by Sam through this so-called crapfest. He may not have loved her anymore, but he wasn't about to let her die alone and in fear of what would happen to Eva.

House interrupted his thoughts. "What kind of wine does CB #2 drink?"

Wilson turned warily towards the kitchen. "CB #2?"

"Well, you weren't all that happy with 'Crazy Bitch,' so I shortened it to CB. Except 'CB' was already reserved for Amber, so I had to tack a number on the end. Hey, is it just me, or are you noticing a pattern here?"

"I'm noticing a pattern, all right," Wilson answered dryly. "Look who I ended up with now."

House put down his tray of something or other and wagged his finger at Wilson. "Oh, you're good!"

"I try." Remembering House's initial question, he said, "White wine, I think."

He watched as House rummaged through the cupboards, searching for an acceptable bottle of white. Even now, he was amazed by how long they'd waited to finally get together. They'd only really just started, of course, but things were going well. It had begun on a drunken night after work, both of them plastered and horny as they re-watched their favorite porn on the condo's flatscreen. One thing led to another, and when they woke the next morning with Wilson's arm draped over House's bare chest, their heads side by side and their legs intertwined, neither of them wanted that feeling of wonder and rapture to end.

For once in Wilson's life, everything felt _right_, in a way that they never had when he'd been married. But House wasn't into kids – hell, House wasn't into _people_. Whenever they visited Cuddy, she had to practically beg him to even go _near _Rachel. When Wilson ended up with Eva, as he expected he would…what if House walked out the door, just because she was walking in? Or what if even sitting at Sam's bedside would be enough for House to grab his cane and go? Wilson _needed _House. Everyone assumed it was the other way around, that House was the needy one and lived for Wilson's pampering and indulgences. He was supposed to be stable and practical, the pillar of strength that House depended on. But he doubted that anyone knew how much the opposite was true – that without House, Wilson would be too lost and incomplete to function.

The doorbell rang, and Wilson started from the couch. "Shit!"

"Relax," House called from the kitchen. "Deep breaths, Jimmy."

Wilson swallowed. "I don't think I can do this."

"Yes, you can. I'll get the wine, you get the door. Go."

He inhaled slowly through his nose. Exhaled. Rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants.

He opened the door.

Standing in front of Sam, a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl stared back at him.


	3. House

_Eva_

_Chapter 3: House_

She really did have Wilson's eyes. House had been around Wilson long enough to know. They were the first part of him that House had memorized, and now it was almost scary to see the same chocolate-colored ovals on the face of a little girl.

Eva was tall for her age; skinny, but not too gangly. She wore a jumper that could only be described as puke green and House wanted to rip her ridiculous multicolored converses off of her feet, but he was making an effort to behave for Wilson's sake. He mostly hated kids (re: Rachel), but at least Eva was tolerable – it was CB #2 who was really pissing him off. He still couldn't forget the pain of the divorce, the nights he'd spent cradling Wilson as he cried on the bathroom floor. And now she expected Wilson to drop everything, rearrange his life, and come running to her just because she was dying?

Okay, so maybe death was kind of a big deal. And figuring out where to dump a 10-year-old kid was pretty sucky, too. (Eva, of course, had made a point of reminding them that she was _almost _11, to which House had to struggle not to respond that she was _almost _an annoying little twerp). But he'd said it before, and he'd say it again: this was not Wilson's responsibility.

They sat around the dining table, enjoying House's gourmet meal and trying to work around the inevitable awkwardness. Although his brain was generating its usual batch of snide comments, he kept his mouth shut – partially for Wilson's sake, and partially because he didn't enjoy being called Uncle Greg. Wilson, for his part, had settled on Eva calling him James – apparently you had to earn the right to be called a dad, or something. House had somewhat envisioned his lover spending most of the time hyperventilating and vomiting into the toilet, but the oncologist had managed to remain calm and keep breathing. Which was good for Wilson, but it made House uneasy. He wasn't supposed to be the strong one in their relationship – he depended on _Wilson's_ stability, not the other way around.

He and Wilson sat across from Sam and Eva, and he ate quietly as the other three eased into behaving as normal people would in normal situations. He initially thought that maybe he'd at least try to talk to the kid, but once she'd voiced her dream of becoming a surgeon like Patrick Dempsey, he'd given up. Sure, McDreamy usually succeeded in giving him a boner, but the man could barely even hold a scalpel correctly. Instead, he watched as they engaged in their dinner, eating and talking and laughing as if they did it all the time. If he had his camera, he could have taken a photo for a freakin' Hallmark card. And it wasn't just that they were the picture-perfect image of a family, it was that Eva was the picture-perfect image of a miniature female Wilson. Her eyes were only half of it. Her light brown hair, her fair skin, her toothy smile and "Oh-ho!" laugh, the way she cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows when she was bewildered or confused or simply curious – it was clear where she'd gotten her namesake. House wanted nothing more than to distract himself from it all, and of course distraction came in the form of pain. As he reached down to try to ease the throbbing, Wilson, who never missed any signal that House was less than okay, glanced over in concern.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Fine," House assured him, and took a bite of veal marsala to prove his point.

The conversation resumed, and he noted how Sam's eyes remained fixated on Wilson's as she used one hand to absently twirl her fork and the other to occasionally stroke her daughter's hair. She was barely eating, picking at the food and swirling it around her plate. Now and then, she took a sip of wine or daintily dabbed her mouth with her napkin, as if to pretend that her appetite still existed. From Wilson's photos, House knew that she'd been slim before, but not _that _slim. And although she was taking part in the conversation and laughing at all the right times, it was clear that she was tired.

He wondered if Wilson noticed. Wilson _had_ to notice. The man was pretty much House's counterpart in oncology, and he knew what kind of battle his ex-wife was facing. She showed all the classic outward symptoms – fatigue, no appetite, weight loss, probably nausea. Even her hair, as beautifully blond as it was, was unusually thin; he wondered how long it had been since she'd stopped chemo and allowed it to grow back. But even if the brilliant Dr. Wilson was aware of the signs of illness, did he realize how much Sam still _wanted_ him?

"Hey, Uncle Greg." Wilson poked him in the ribs.

House blinked and looked up, refocusing. _Sorry if I was too busy noticing how I'm not the only one in this room who likes to picture you naked._

"I was just saying that dinner was delicious," Sam explained with a smile. "Thanks for cooking for us."

House forced a smile back. "My pleasure."

Eva tugged her mother's sleeve. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"It's straight down the hallway to the right," Wilson said. "Want me to lead the way?"

"I think she can handle it," Sam winked.

Wilson leaned back in his chair as Eva left the room. "Sam, she's incredible. She really is."

"She always reminds me so much of you," Sam said. "I was afraid she'd be shy, but I think you guys hit it off pretty well, don't you?"

"She's just perfect." A smile crossed Wilson's face, and he slowly shook his head. "I just can't believe that she's…_our daughter_. You know?"

Sam's smile was soon replaced by a wince, and Wilson started. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, I promise," Sam assured him, massaging her temple. "Just a headache."

"I meant to ask how you're doing," Wilson said, almost apologetically. "I didn't want to bring it up while Eva was around…I'm not sure how much she knows."

"I've been honest with her," Sam said, not noticing House's eye-roll at the thought of a mother actually being honest to her kid about her terminal cancer. "We've talked about it, and she knows what's coming up for me…for both of us. It's been tough, but she's a smart kid. She's handling it well."

Eva bounced back into the dining area. "What'd I miss?"

"Not much." Sam stood from her chair. "I think we should go, honey. You have school tomorrow."

"Ugh," Eva grumbled.

Wilson laughed. "School can't be that bad."

"It _is_," Eva declared as she grabbed two jackets from the coat rack and tossed one to her mother. "It's totally boring."

"Oh, she just hates her teacher because she's strict," Sam teased. They were standing at the doorway now, ready to go. House waited impatiently, positioning himself a little behind Wilson.

"Well." Wilson cleared his throat. "It was very nice meeting you, Eva."

"You too." Eva shifted a little so that she could see House. "And it was very nice meeting _you_, Uncle Greg."

"You know, maybe we could hang out sometime," Wilson began. "I mean, if you're not busy, and if your mom says it's okay."

Eva turned to her mother for approval, and Sam nodded. "I think that would be nice."

"I could give you a tour of the hospital," Wilson suggested. "You could see where I work, and I could introduce you to some of my friends on the surgical staff."

Eva's eyes lit up. "That would be cool!"

"She has a break in a few weeks," Sam said, and ruffled her daughter's hair. "You could visit James then, sweetie."

"Eva, would you mind if I talked to your mom alone for a minute?" Wilson asked.

"Sure." Eva opened the door. "I'll wait for you in the hallway, mom. Bye, James; bye, Uncle Greg."

"Bye," Wilson waved. House limped back to the table and began to clean up, but he did his best to listen in on the conversation.

"…be your doctor," Wilson was saying. "I want to be there for you through all of this."

"Oh, James. That's very sweet of you, but really, it's not necessary. I have a great doctor at Princeton General, and I'm comfortable there. But thank you."

"What about Eva? What will you do when…?"

"She's stayed with me in the hospital before. And I have some great neighbors who've helped look after her."

"And in the long run?"

Sam hesitated, and Wilson helped her out. "You want her to stay with me," he said gently.

"I…I was hoping that might be an option. I know everything is being dumped on you all at once and I haven't even talked it over with Eva, but I have a feeling she knows why I asked her to meet you today, and I – "

"Sam, it's okay. I was expecting it. But I do need some time to…think about things, and talk to Greg."

"Of course." Sam paused. "I should get going, James. Thanks again for everything."

House, in the middle of stacking plates in the sink for Wilson to wash, watched as they embraced.

"Bye, Greg," Sam called out as she left. "It was great meeting you, and thanks again for dinner!"

* * *

The sex that night was brilliant. House suspected that Wilson had let go of the rest of his bottled nerves and released them in the form of an absurdly magnificent sex drive, but hey, he wasn't complaining.

They lay contentedly together afterwards, quietly enjoying the feeling of each other's skin and the sound of each other's breathing. Wilson's head rested on House's chest, and House curled his arm around Wilson's shoulders as he ran his fingers through Wilson's hair. Finally, Wilson broke the silence. "Isn't she great?"

"Who?"

"Eva."

"Oh. Yeah, she's something."

"She's incredible. She's so smart, and so beautiful. I can't believe she wants to be a surgeon."

"She wants to be a surgeon because Patrick Dempsey has gorgeous hair, not because she knows anything about medicine."

"At least she has a goal. How many 10-year-olds have dreams like that?"

"Actually, she's _almost _11. In case you didn't know."

Wilson sighed and pulled away from House, using his elbow to support himself into a half-sitting position. "You hate her."

"No. I hate _kids_."

"Right. And you hate Sam, too, I suppose."

"I thought it was a free country."

"House, she's dying."

"People die every day. I'm not going to be her new best friend just because she's a little closer to seeing the light in the tunnel than the rest of us."

"I'm not asking you to be her new best friend, I'm just asking you – "

"To what? To behave, to do my part? I was good tonight, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, you were great. You cooked an amazing meal _and _forgot how to speak. I've never seen you so silent before in my life."

"Believe me, you should be thankful that I kept my mouth shut."

Wilson groaned and flopped back onto the pillows, crossing his arms. "House, I love you, but you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

House rolled onto his side to wrap his arm around Wilson's torso. "Did you really expect otherwise?"

Wilson couldn't help but smile. "I guess not." His smile quickly faded, however, and he turned his head to face House. "But we do have to talk about what's going to happen when Sam gets worse."

House burrowed his head into Wilson's shoulder. "Not tonight. You had a great dinner with your kid, and I got rewarded with great sex. Let's just keep it at that."

Wilson hesitated, but finally gave in. "Okay," he whispered, and House hugged him tighter, breathing in his scent and letting his lover's heartbeat slowly lull him to sleep.

"G'night, Wilson," he murmured, and he smiled as he felt a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"G'night, House."


	4. Needing You

_Eva_

_Chapter 4: Needing You_

House rolled away from the sunlight peeking through the curtains, disappointed when he realized that the other side of the bed was empty. He glanced at the clock and sighed, fumbling for his cane and throwing on some clothes and a pair of sneakers before entering the kitchen.

A plate of scrambled eggs and toast was waiting for him on the island, accompanied by a glass of orange juice. Across the room, Wilson was already dressed, standing by the television and rummaging through their collection of DVDs.

"You playing hooky today?" House asked, perching himself on a stool and digging in to his food.

"Good morning to you too, dear," Wilson smirked. "Just wanted to see what we have lying around. How the hell did we accumulate so much porn?"

"What do you care? You like porn."

"I like _you_," Wilson rejoined.

"Oh, how romantic." House rolled his eyes and bit into his toast. "Seriously, what gives?"

Wilson shrugged, placing the DVDs back on the shelf and joining House in the kitchen. "I just thought I'd see if there's anything we can get rid of. We have so much junk, you know…it's not like we really need all of it."

House paused, surveying his lover. "You're childproofing."

"What?"

"You're childproofing. You're getting the condo ready for when Eva moves in."

"No, I'm not. I just…I thought I could invite her over for a movie night or something, and I didn't want her to see all of our porn. Okay?"

House remained silent, chugging his OJ and scraping up the last of his eggs with his fork. Wilson, watching him, patiently waited until House stood to move his plate and cup to the sink. "I know you're upset – "

"I'm not upset."

"…Well, I know it's been hard for you," Wilson tried again. "It's been hard for me, too – I'm the one who just found out he's a dad, remember?"

"It didn't seem so hard for you last night," House retorted, leaning against the sink. "The two of you acted like you'd known each other your entire lives."

"If I made it seem easy, then I credit that to you. You calmed me down, made me feel better – "

"Oh, don't flatter me. It's pathetic."

Wilson let out a sardonic laugh. "House, what the hell do you want me to say? One minute you're offering to cook them dinner and telling me that it's going to be alright, and the next minute you act like you want to kill them."

House shook his head and began to limp towards the coat rack. "Too much paperwork. Cancer will take care of CB #2, anyway." He grabbed his black jacket and shrugged it over his shoulders, eyeing Wilson. "We're going to be late for work."

"Since when do you care?"

"Since I decided that this conversation is as useless as Cuddy's bras."

Wilson, exasperated, walked over to him. "House, we _need_ to talk about this. I wish this was only going to affect _me_, but it's obviously going to affect you, too. Part of being in a relationship means – "

"Hey! I don't need relationship advice from Mr. Three-Time Divorcé," House snapped. "I cooked for them and made you feel better because I _love_ you. I didn't think about the future, about movie nights and take your daughter to freakin' work day. I only thought about what was happening _now_, because all I knew was that you were scared and you needed me, and I'm pretty sure I've needed _you _enough times in my life for you to deserve a little something in return." He paused to catch his breath and regain his footing, aware that Wilson was speechless and could do nothing but blink in surprise. "But now that you've met," he continued quietly, "you're attached to her…to both of them. You're already thinking about taking care of Sam and decorating Eva's room and taking her to school, and all that crap. You're coming up with this life that revolves around this kid, and you don't even know that you've already blocked me out of it."

Wilson looked at him, his sad eyes gleaming like pools of murky brown water. "I haven't blocked you out of it," he whispered hoarsely.

House opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "Like I said," he murmured, glancing slightly over his shoulder, "you don't even know it."

Leaving for work alone, House left Wilson staring solemnly at the closed door.

* * *

He couldn't imagine life without House.

It was hard to even remember what life had been like before they'd met. How had he survived before the crazy antics, the mind games, the sarcastic comments, the total honesty, the struggle to elicit the emotions that had finally come pouring out of them? House was his lifeline, his anchor, the one who drove him insane but would never let him fall.

Wilson swirled absently in his swivel chair, ignoring the mound of files on his desk. He'd spent a good part of the morning lying miserably on the couch after House had left, and as his staff had been kind enough to take care of his patient consults, nobody much cared that he'd come in late. Even Cuddy, who'd observed House's unusually sour demeanor when he'd come in that morning, had assumed that there had been a fight and hadn't bothered either of them about it. But left alone with his thoughts, Wilson couldn't find peace.

He hadn't blocked House out of his dreams of a future as Eva's father. Not consciously, anyway. He did intend to stick by Sam through her illness, and yeah, maybe he'd thought about decorating the spare bedroom and driving Eva to school and helping her with homework, and doing all of the stuff that dads do. And she'd need someone to hold her when her mom died – he could take care of that, too. He hadn't lost a parent, but he'd certainly experienced loss.

Amber would have known what to do. She'd always been so clever. He imagined her sitting beside him, stroking his hair and whispering the answer into his ear.

_You love him. It's enough._

No longer able to control himself, Wilson stood from his chair and charged out of his office.

* * *

"I need you."

House, startled, looked up from his solitaire game on the computer screen. Wilson had entered the office, legs spread slightly apart and hands on his hips. It was his strong stance, the position he took when he wanted to get his point across but was afraid he wouldn't be persuasive enough. House glanced at the differential room through the glass walls, making sure that his team was still off running tests.

"You need a consult?"

Wilson collapsed into the chair on the opposite side of House's desk. "Not funny."

"Wasn't trying to be."

"House, I _need _you." Wilson leaned forward, his brown eyes pleading. "Everyone thinks it's the other way around. They think you're the one feeding off of me, that I'm wasting my time. But they _don't know_." He swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing that House wouldn't appreciate the unnecessary tears. "They don't know how much I need you, too."

House's eyes, intensely bright whenever he was on his guard, slowly faded into a paler shade of blue as he began to give in to his lover's appeal. "I know," he said gently.

"This whole thing has been insane," Wilson continued with a little laugh. "Sometimes I feel like it's not even real." He paused, relaxing a little in his chair. "I know what Sam wants for Eva, but I need to know what _you_ want."

"What _I _want? She's _your _kid."

"And you're my boyfriend. We live together; we love each other. We're building our futures together. This has to be a mutual decision."

House took his time in answering. "You know I love you," he finally said.

"I think I knew that," Wilson replied with a small smile.

"But Eva is your daughter."

Wilson's smile faded. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. I don't see why that has to change anything between us. I have _not _blocked you out, House." Suddenly annoyed, he added, "Actually, I think you're the one blocking _me_ out."

House raised his eyebrows. "Care to clarify that?"

"I've done nothing but try to include you," Wilson argued. "You're the one who keeps pulling away. You barely talked to either of them at dinner, and you won't even consider the possibility of letting Eva live with us. She's my _daughter_, House, and Sam is _dying_ of a disease I've spent half my life treating. Taking care of them isn't my way of pushing you out. I know it's hard for you to believe, but not everything is about you."

"It_ is_ when the sick woman you're taking care of still wants to get in your pants!"

"…You can't be serious."

"CB #2 was all over you at dinner. Don't tell me you didn't notice."

"Well, forgive me if I was too busy trying to get to know Eva. Sam is _not _still into me. And even if she is, so fucking what? Have I mentioned that I'm in love with _you_? Are you seriously going to tell me that taking care of her when she's sick is equivalent to cheating on you?"

The office was quiet, and neither doctor could look the other in the eye. Finally, House glanced up at Wilson.

"Could we at least keep _some _of our porn?" he asked quietly.

Wilson couldn't help but smile. "As long as you stay," he replied, and reached out to grasp House's hand. "You're everything to me. I need you to trust me when I say that no matter what happens with Sam and Eva, I _love_ you. And I know how you feel about kids, but…I need this to work. Please."

House curled his fingers around Wilson's. "We'll make it work," he promised. Then, suddenly, he snapped his head up and grinned.

"Oh no," Wilson groaned. "Not Tim Gunn."

"Make it work," House imitated gleefully, and Wilson narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance. "You do a terrible impression."

"Eva will like it," House countered. "She likes terrible impressions."

Wilson tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows, and House felt his insides melt at his lover's ridiculously cute expression of confusion.

"McDreamy's hot, but he's no doctor," he explained. "I would know."

Wilson rolled his eyes with a smile, and House began to chuckle. Outside the office door, his team waited patiently, no one willing to admit that they actually enjoyed seeing their boss happy.

* * *

- THREE WEEKS LATER –

House sat at Cuddy's desk, twirling his cane and avoiding work. He and Wilson had spent the past few weeks discussing the inevitable future and making peace with the decision to allow Eva to move into the condo. According to Wilson, Sam had been talking it over with her daughter, and as House refused to talk to CB #2 unless absolutely necessary, he took Wilson's word for it.

At his latest meeting with Dr. Nolan, the therapist had thought it was a great idea for Eva to live with them. "It'll be a good experience for you," he'd said. "Learn to be responsible for someone other than yourself."

"I thought I already had that with Wilson."

"Wilson depends on you in a different way. Eva may not be your daughter by birth, but she will be by association. It's not only Wilson who'll need to step up to the plate."

At this point, House would have been more than willing to simply remain Uncle Greg.

He and Wilson had also consulted Cuddy, who'd held more than a few mock couples counseling sessions with them since their relationship began. As a mother herself, she was thrilled for them both, but her heart ached for Sam and she worried about House's real feelings about the situation, let alone the quality of his parenting skills. Now, alone with House, she felt freer to talk without worrying about shattering Wilson's fragile emotions.

"How's Wilson holding up?" she asked, glancing up from her paperwork.

"Fine." House nodded towards the files on her desk. "Aren't you going to give me one?"

Cuddy was surprised. "Are you actually _asking _for a case?"

"If I stay late, I don't have to be home for Wilson and Eva's movie night," House grumbled.

"Weren't you invited?"

"I'd rather clean bedpans for a month than watch _Enchanted_. Besides, I don't want Wilson to get jealous when Patrick Dempsey gives me a boner."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time we're short on nurses," Cuddy said, rolling her eyes. "What about showing Eva around the hospital?"

"What am I, their event planner? She'll be disappointed, anyway. None of the surgeons here even come _close _to McDreamy."

"House…" Cuddy hesitated, considering her words. "You realize that Eva is going to end up living with you permanently, right? Soon you won't be able to avoid movie nights."

"Exactly why I'm taking advantage of the opportunity _now_." House rested his cane against the desk and leaned back in his chair. "This is father-daughter quality time for Wilson. He needs it."

"You need each other," Cuddy corrected him. "And some quality time with Eva wouldn't kill you, either."

"If you've got evidence of that, I'd love to see it." His cell phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

"Shit," he muttered.

"What is it?" Cuddy asked, concerned.

House tossed her the phone, not bothering to watch her reaction as she read the text from Wilson.

_Sam collapsed. On the way to Princeton General with Eva. Please come._


	5. Hurt and Comfort

_Eva_

_Chapter 5: Hurt and Comfort_

The pristine glass walls that surrounded him at Princeton-Plainsboro sometimes made House forget that there were inferior hospitals elsewhere in the universe. He scrunched his nose at the dull gray color scheme that greeted him in the lobby of Princeton General, definitely not impressed. Pausing by the front desk, he planned to call Wilson to announce his arrival, but the peppy chorus of "Dancing Queen" began blaring before he had a chance to fish his cell phone out of his pocket.

Giving the stink eye to some annoyed nurses – damn, even _they_ were unattractive compared to the hotties at PPTH – he flipped open his phone. "I just got here, _dancing queen_."

"I keep telling you to change that stupid ringtone," Wilson grumbled on the other end.

"Hey, don't diss ABBA." House caught sight of the elevators and began to limp further into the hospital. "How is she?"

"Not great. We're on the 4th Floor, room 22."

"I'm on my way."

He arrived to find Wilson and Eva sitting on an uncomfortable-looking bench outside the room. Wilson's arm was curled comfortingly around her shoulders but she still sat rigidly, her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes focused on the floor. The curtains on the windows were drawn.

"Hey," House greeted them quietly.

Wilson glanced up at him with a grateful smile. "Thanks for coming. Hey, Eva, Uncle Greg is here."

Eva didn't reply, but she and Wilson scooted over to make room for House on the bench. Gingerly, he sat down beside Eva. "How's your mom?"

When Eva continued to remain silent, Wilson gave her a little nudge. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "Want to get something to eat in the cafeteria?" She shook her head, but Wilson eased a couple of dollar bills into her palm. "How about a snack?" he suggested. "I think I saw a vending machine over there."

Eva hesitated, but Wilson was persistent. "You should eat something," he urged gently, and finally she shrugged Wilson's arm off her shoulders and walked quietly down the hall.

House moved closer to Wilson. "How bad?" he asked.

"Severe abdominal pain and nausea," Wilson said, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. "She's coughing up blood. Eva just stood there staring at her in the ER, white as a ghost."

House grimaced. "How'd you find out?"

"She listed me as her emergency contact. I picked Eva up from school and came over."

"You should've told me," House chided. "I would've gone with you."

"I was in a hurry," Wilson said, a hint of apology in his voice. He opened his eyes and turned his head to face House. "I was planning to stay at the hospital tonight."

The gears in House's head churned. "And you want me to watch the kid while you hold Sam's hair back."

Wilson managed a small smile. "Am I that easy to read?"

"You're Wilson," House shrugged, as if it were enough of an explanation. "Don't worry. You man the fort in there – I'll watch over the kiddies."

Wilson placed his hand on House's good knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. "This is it, you know," he said softly.

House gave a slight nod. "I know."

Eva returned with a bag of pretzels and offered some to House and Wilson, who both refused.

"No chocolate?" House gasped in mock horror.

"Chocolate's bad for you," came the curt reply. House, assessing the situation, decided against making a snide remark about the pretzels' sodium content.

"Eva, how would you feel about staying in the hospital tonight?" Wilson asked.

"I've stayed in the hospital loads of times," she said. Wilson felt his heart tugging in his chest, realizing how much his daughter had been through alone.

"We could go back to the condo if you'd prefer," he offered, but Eva shook her head. "I'm not leaving," she declared.

"Okay. Well, I figured I could sit with your mom for a while, and you and Uncle Greg could find a comfier couch. What do you think?"

Behind the eyes that she shared with him, Wilson could almost see the memories of the ER cutting through her like glass – the flurry of doctors and nurses, the blood-stained blouse, the oxygen mask failing to hide her mother's gasps of pain. Eva glanced at House, then turned to Wilson and nodded.

"Okay," she whispered.

* * *

"This is more like it." House collapsed onto the couch in the empty doctors' lounge, motioning for Eva to join him.

"Are you sure we're allowed to be in here?" she asked, hesitating.

"This is a doctors' lounge. I'm a doctor." He watched as she chose an armchair across from him, munching quietly on her pretzels. Her ridiculous outfit from their first dinner had been replaced by a normal combination of a t-shirt and jeans, and her Wilson-colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She pushed the bag towards him again, but he shook his head. "I'm on a diet," he lied.

"But you're skinny. And pretzels are healthy."

Again, he forced the unnecessary comments out of his head. "I had a big lunch."

Eva chewed thoughtfully on her snack, then set the bag down. "What kind of doctor are you?" she asked.

House leaned back into the couch, toying with his cane. "I'm a diagnostician. I figure out what's wrong with people."

Eva scrunched her eyebrows into an expression that she could only have inherited from Wilson. "Doesn't every doctor do that?"

"Yeahhhh," House replied, giving her a "Duh" expression in return. "But I'm talking about rare diseases that most people have never even heard of. It's way cooler. Your boring dad, on the other hand, works in oncology. Cancer."

"Like what my mom has."

"Yep." _Oops. Awkward._

"Is he a good oncology…doctor?"

"Oncologist," House corrected, not unkindly. "He's the best there is."

"Do you love him?"

Where the hell was she coming up with these questions? This was why he hated kids. "Why? Did you learn in school that you can't have two dads or two moms?"

"No." Eva paused, not noticing, or perhaps not understanding, House's latest point. "My mom said she used to love him," she finally said, looking down at her sneakers. "But she said that they didn't get along, and we'd be better off without him. And then she got sick." She looked up to meet House's intense gaze. "When she said that I could finally meet him, I was so happy. But then I realized what that meant."

"What did it mean?"

"That she was dying." Eva grabbed the pretzel bag, crinkling it in her hands.

"Your mom said that she was honest with you," House began cautiously. "What did she tell you?"

"About what?"

"About what's going to happen to her now."

Eva continued to play with the bag. "She said she'd be tired and she'd feel sick, like when she was on chemo. She said she'd tell me everything ahead of time." She stopped, glaring angrily at House. "She lied. It wasn't supposed to be this scary."

"Everybody lies," House tried, but Eva shook her head. "My mom never lies."

"She was worried about you. She didn't want you to be scared. It's what moms do."

"But I _am _scared." She slumped back into the armchair. "I bet dads never lie. Does James lie?"

"Sometimes."

"Oh." She was clearly disappointed. "Did_ your_ dad ever lie?"

There was a lot he could say in response to that, but not all of it was appropriate. "My dad's dead," he said quietly.

Eva gasped. "I didn't know that."

"Now you know," House shrugged.

"Uncle Greg…" Eva leaned forward a little, her sad eyes gleaming. "Does it…hurt? Here?" She pointed to her chest, her hand clutching her heart. "Since your dad died, I mean?"

House's eyes never left her gaze. "All the time," he answered, and let his words sink in.

* * *

"Here." Wilson clicked the morphine pump a couple of times, then placed it gently back into Sam's hand. "Want me to raise the bed a little more?"

Sam nodded weakly, and Wilson reached over for the bed controls, careful to avoid the nasal cannula snaking across the blankets and the emesis basin resting in her lap. "Better?"

"Mmm. Thanks." Sam glanced over at him, struggling for the strength to speak. "I promised Eva there'd be no surprises. She must hate me."

"No, of course not," Wilson assured her. Satisfied that she was as comfortable as possible, he eased himself into the visitor's chair and leaned forward to stroke her hair. "She's just a little scared, that's all."

"She's lucky you're here," Sam whispered. "You and Greg."

"We're going to take care of her. You don't have to worry about anything." He grimaced as Sam began to choke, quickly raising the basin to her mouth and grabbing a tissue to wipe the blood from her lips.

"I'm so sorry," Sam murmured when she'd caught her breath. "You don't have to stay. I'll be fine."

"I'm not going anywhere," Wilson promised, grasping her hand in his own. "Not this time."

* * *

The minutes turned into hours. House had long since switched places with Eva so that she could lie down and sleep, and he amused himself by killing evil ninjas on his Nintendo DS and scaring away the doctors who entered the lounge and stared questioningly at them. He didn't know what time it was, but even _he _was ready to get some shut-eye when "Dancing Queen" jogged him out of his drowsiness.

"This better be important," he grumbled into the phone as Eva groggily sat up from the couch.

"She's delirious," Wilson said. "She doesn't know where she is anymore, but she's asking for Eva."

"We're coming." House hung up the phone, unable to look the young girl in the eye, but Eva already knew.

"Were you there when your dad died?" she asked quietly. House shook his head.

"Why not?" she pressed.

"It was too sudden. They couldn't have warned me."

Eva hesitated. "Do you…do you wish you'd been there?"

He met her gaze, searching her Wilson eyes for the answer she needed to hear.

"…Yes."

* * *

"James, it's over!" Sam was clearly feverish and confused, flailing her arms whenever Wilson came near. "Our marriage is _over!"_

"I know. I'm sorry." Wilson was at a loss, desperate for anything to calm her down and relieve her pain. He was experienced in dealing with delirious patients, but not with delirious ex-wives with whom he'd unknowingly had a child.

"Where's Eva? I want my daughter…"

"I'm right here, Mom," Eva whispered, entering the room with House close behind her.

"Oh, baby. Come here, darling." Sam opened her arms, allowing Eva to fly into them. "Everything's okay, Eva," she continued hoarsely. "You know I love you, right?"

"I love you, too." Eva burrowed her head into her mother's shoulder. "I love you so, so much."

A strangled gasp came from Sam's throat, and the lines on the monitor jumped. Wilson moved forward to help her, but House laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let them be."

They waited quietly and respectfully, neither moving when Sam's eyelids fluttered for the last time and the monitor finally eased into a straight line. Still wrapped in her mother's embrace, Eva finally broke down and began to sob. Wilson bowed his head and struggled to blink away his own tears, grateful for House's arm hugging him close to his side.

Eventually, a nurse tapped Wilson on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're going to have to move her," she said.

"The kid just lost her mom," House muttered. "Cut her some slack, will you?"

"We need the room," she apologized, and House rolled his eyes. "Just give us a minute."

The nurse left, and Wilson left his lover's embrace to sit on the bed beside Eva and Sam. "Eva," he whispered gently, rubbing his hand in comforting circles around her back. "Eva, honey, I'm so sorry, but we need to go now."

"No," Eva mumbled through her tears, hugging her mother more tightly. "I'm not going."

Wilson, struggling to find the right words to say, glanced up in surprise to find House hovering over them.

"Eva," House said. "I'm sorry about your mom." Eva sniffled in response, which he took as permission to continue. "But I know she was glad you were there, because she loves you. And she's never going to stop loving you." He paused, leaning down further to whisper in her ear. "I know it's hard," he murmured. "I know it hurts. And it's going to hurt for a long time. But we're all going to take care of each other now - you and me and James."

Wilson, not totally understanding where House was coming from, was even more startled when Eva pushed herself upright and hopped off the bed straight into House's arms. Astonished, he watched as House bent forward in an awkward hug, realizing that his lover was even more surprised than he was.

"Get the car," House finally said, not even knowing that he'd begun to stroke Eva's hair. "We'll meet you in the parking lot."

"What about your bike?"

"We'll pick it up tomorrow."

Wilson eased himself off of the bed, giving Sam's hand one last squeeze before grabbing his jacket and exiting the room. He wasn't sure what surprised him more – the miraculous bonding he'd just witnessed, or House leaving his precious motorcycle in a foreign lot overnight for Eva's sake. Either way, after watching Sam suffer through the last hours of her life, the spark of hope that he suddenly felt was a welcome feeling indeed.


	6. Birthday Wishes

_Eva_

_Chapter 6 (final): Birthday Wishes_

"Oh, for God's sake." House snatched the bowl from Wilson's hands, mixing vigorously. "You stir like a wuss."

"I do not!" Wilson grabbed the bowl back. "The batter's just very…delicate."

Eva smiled as she passed the kitchen on the way to her bedroom. "You kind of do stir like a wuss, Dad," she called out.

Wilson frowned as House, victorious, took the bowl back in possession. "What did I tell you about enabling your Uncle Greg?" he called after her.

House rolled his eyes and nodded towards the other ingredients on the island. "Relax. You can work on the frosting."

Wilson sighed and moved to his relegated position. "I can't believe we've come this far," he said softly, beginning to empty the cream cheese into another bowl. "Two whole months since Sam…it's crazy, isn't it?"

"Hey, none of that sappy crap," House warned him, pausing to shake his spoon in Wilson's direction. "It's your kid's birthday. Happiness and joy required."

Wilson couldn't help but grin. "Look who's talking!" Taking House by surprise, he sauntered back over and licked the batter from the spoon. "Mmm," he groaned. "Delicious."

"Excuse you!" House's mouth hung open in mock disapproval. "Even if you _don't_ get salmonella from that, the kids are the ones who'll be getting sick from your germ-infested mouth." He tossed the contaminated spoon in the sink and grabbed another one from the drawer. "Not that I _always_ disapprove of you licking things."

A spine-tingling touch from Wilson was all it took for the batter to be forgotten on the counter, and their eager lips to find each other.

"Um, guys? How do I look?"

House and Wilson, unfortunately now used to these interruptions, reluctantly pulled away to assess Eva's outfit.

"You look great, honey," Wilson assured her.

"The boys will be all _over _that dress," House agreed, not bothering to mention that it was a little too pink for his taste.

"Good," Eva said, relieved. "How's the cake coming along?"

House retrieved the bowl of batter and continued mixing. "We would've baked two for you by now if Wilson didn't move like a freakin' turtle. It's also his fault that he's completely irresistible, thereby slowing down production."

Eva giggled, and Wilson rolled his eyes. "Everyone will be here soon," he cut in, smiling despite his attempt to change the subject. "You need help with the decorations?"

"Nope, I've got it. You guys keep baking…and doing whatever it is you were doing." Eva grinned as she skipped away into the living room, and House jabbed Wilson with his elbow. "You heard the kid. Frosting, stat."

"Don't worry," Wilson said, heading back to his station. "I've got you covered. Hah! Get it? Frosting, covered?"

"Good Lord. I should've told Eva you're an irresistible nut job."

"At least I'm still irresistible."

"And _that_," House said with a smile, "is why you're my Wilson."

* * *

_In a medium bowl, cream together the cream cheese and butter until creamy. _

Two months. It had taken ages for Wilson to close his eyes and not be haunted by Amber's eyes and hair and lips, and here Eva was, bouncing around the living room just two months after her mother's death. Wilson wasn't quite sure how she'd made it to this point, and there were times, especially at night, when he detected the slightest hint of sadness in her smile. But considering how far they'd all come, he was proud. He was proud of Eva's strength, he was proud of House's progress, and he was proud of keeping his promise to Sam.

Sometimes, when he was lying awake in bed at night and listening to House's steady breathing, he'd contemplate the bizarre reality of their new little family getting through life together in the condo. They were so different, and yet it struck him how much they were the same. Eva had lost Sam, he'd lost Amber, and as much as House chose to hide it, Wilson knew that the passing of his father had left its mark. It used to make Wilson sad, reflecting on death, but somewhere along the way he'd realized just how much more support they all received just by being with each other.

When he'd lost Amber, he'd been alone. Sure, there were the grief counseling sessions, and Cameron and Cuddy had visited every now and then. But no one had been particularly close, and by pushing House away, he'd only isolated himself in his pain. And while their eventful road trip to his father's funeral had provided House with a shoulder to lean on, he'd never really taken Wilson up on the offer.

Eva was different. She'd had time to prepare for Sam's death, which her therapist said would help ease the grieving process, and Wilson supposed that was true. But he was much more inclined to give most of the credit to the family that they'd built together.

_Mix in the vanilla, then gradually stir in the confectioners' sugar._

It had taken some time, but slowly they'd learned to adjust to their new lives – House and Wilson to caring for a grieving child, and Eva to living with two father figures instead of a mother. Her therapist had encouraged them to talk to her about their own experiences, and as she learned about how they'd dealt with the passing of Amber and House's father – the stories about the latter admittedly embellished for Eva's sake – Wilson could tell that Eva felt connected to them, to two people who truly understood what it meant to lose someone. He knew that they could never completely erase her pain, but he was grateful that they were able to relieve any of it at all.

After the funeral, he and House had joined forces in juggling Eva's initial grief with getting her life back in order. Wilson had taken care of the practical things, like taking her to therapy and transitioning back to school, while House had grudgingly searched IKEA and Target for pink décor. (Wilson still liked to argue that House had, in fact, enjoyed the shopping spree, to which House simply flipped him the bird). With a little help from Cuddy, they'd turned Eva's bedroom into a princess' dream castle, and when Eva could finally fall asleep without crying and had actually screamed with joy at the life-sized Patrick Dempsey cutout they'd managed to find, they knew they were finally on their way. She'd even begun calling Wilson "Dad" instead of James, and two months later, she was doing more than okay.

In any case, Wilson's initial worries about bringing a preteen girl into their lives were long gone. He'd never doubted that House loved him, but House's bonding with Eva made him all the more aware of just how much that was true. His lover's signs of affection may not have been as open as his own, but they were there. He saw them every time House offered to tuck Eva in (so that Wilson could "get to sleep early"), agreed to sit through romantic chick flicks ("At least the dudes are hot"), and followed up with Eva's therapist ("I don't want you blaming me if she ends up in the psych ward because your guy's an idiot"). Eva's own attachment to House was apparent as well, and Wilson knew that each time she offered him a smile or a hug, it moved the diagnostician more than he'd ever be willing to admit.

Once, Wilson had woken up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, and upon further inspection had found House leaning quietly against Eva's doorframe.

"She was mumbling in her sleep," he'd muttered. "Kept me awake."

But Wilson knew better.

_Store in the refrigerator after use._

Frosting completed, Wilson set his cooking utensils down and joined House by the oven as they waited for the cake. Their hands found each other, and with their fingers gently laced together, they leaned contentedly back against the island.

Wilson gave his lover's hand a squeeze. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

House smirked. "Are we quoting song lyrics now?"

"I mean it. I couldn't have done all this without you."

"Tell me about it. You'd end up with a burnt cake and a torched condo."

Wilson placed his free hand on his hip and smiled, waiting patiently. Finally, House gave in. "I never thought I'd ever have a family," he admitted quietly.

Wilson rested his head on House's shoulder. No more needed to be said, but the ringing of the doorbell made them snap back to attention, and they heard Eva scurry across the living room. "They're here!" she shouted.

Taking a deep breath, they braced themselves for the inevitable onslaught of unruly kids and ear-splitting choruses of "Happy Birthday."

"I don't believe in God," House muttered, "but if you want to pray, I think now's the time to do it."

* * *

"House, c'mon," Wilson called from the kitchen. "Get in here and help." The sound of running water filled the room as he and Cuddy began the massive after-party cleanup.

"Can't. Busy." House was mainly busy staring down at Rachel's sleeping form on the couch, trying to figure out how to move her so he could use his own damn sofa. One preteen birthday party and 15 squealing kids later, he was ready to collapse.

"The cake was great," Cuddy tried, and House rolled his eyes as he limped back to them. "Flattery is not going to get me to do the cleaning," he said flatly. "That's Wilson's job." He poked Cuddy's leg with his cane. "I'm not really sure why _you're _still here, though."

"I'm still here because Wilson needs a hand and you're being a lazy ass." Cuddy sighed as she took the next bowl from Wilson, drying it with a dishrag. "Could you at least clean up the rest of the place? There are paper plates and napkins all over the floor."

"But I'm a cripple!" House whined.

"Then switch." Cuddy held the dishrag out to him, and he narrowed his eyes before leaning his cane against the counter and taking it from her. As she grabbed a large black garbage bag and left the kitchen area, House tossed the rag between his hands, waiting.

"Good party?" he said finally.

Wilson handed him the pitcher he'd just washed, eyeing House for a few extra seconds to make sure he was doing his job. "You always knew how to throw a good party."

"As if you were ever sober enough to remember. But yeah, I'm sure Chase and his strawberry allergy would agree."

Eva emerged from her room, wearing pajamas. "Can I help?"

"It's your birthday," Wilson reminded her. He glanced over and smiled as she hopped onto a stool and begun to munch on a leftover cookie. "Did you have a good time?"

"The best. The cake was sooo good!"

"Chocolate with a dash of love." House returned the pitcher to its proper cabinet. "What'd you wish for, anyway?"

"House, it's bad luck if you say your wish out loud," Wilson chided. "Everybody knows that."

"Oh, that's all superstitious crap."

"Maybe if I write it down, it won't be bad luck?" Eva suggested.

"That might work," Cuddy said, returning to the kitchen. "I think you guys are good to go in the living and dining rooms."

"Thanks, Cuddy," Wilson said. "I think we can take it from here. You need some help with Rachel?"

"If you can help me get the door, I can handle the rest." Cuddy came over and ruffled Eva's hair. "Happy birthday, kiddo. It was great meeting all of your friends."

"Thanks, Aunt Lisa. And thank Rachel for me, too."

"I will." Cuddy leaned down to kiss the top of Eva's head and gave her a smile before following Wilson out of the kitchen. "Make sure your Uncle Greg behaves!"

Eva giggled, turning back to House. "Everyone always tells me to make sure you behave." Then, remembering, she grabbed a legal pad and a pen from the corner of the island and began scribbling.

"Here." She handed the pad to House. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Uncle Greg."

"Happy birthday," he replied, and watched her walk back to her room. Then, tossing the dishrag to the counter, he looked down to read her wish.

_"I didn't wish for anything. I just said thanks for you and Dad."_

House took a deep breath and let a small smile spread across his face. Wilson returned, eyebrows raised. "What's that?"

"Just something to make me all warm and fuzzy." House set the pad down. "Wanna call it a night?"

"Of course you'd stop helping now that Cuddy's gone."

"I didn't mean sleep, genius."

Wilson couldn't help but smile. "We still haven't finished washing the – "

"You know, I could easily take our porn out of hiding and start jacking off, but I kind of like you a little better than Girls Gone Wild – which, by the way, is a major compliment."

Seconds later, they were collapsed on the bed, fumbling to unbutton shirts and pants between kisses and groans.

"Am I still irresistible?" Wilson asked playfully.

"You're my Wilson," House repeated, and the loving tone of his voice was enough for Wilson to know it was true.

* * *

_Disclaimer: Frosting recipe taken from AllRecipes._


End file.
